The War to End All Wars
by the stargate time traveller
Summary: Set in the First World War, Merlin, centuries old already, reflects on the futility of war and their pointlessness over the centuries and he also thinks about everyone he's lost.


My first Merlin story. I don't own anything. I hope you enjoy it.

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The War to End All Wars.

He had always hated war.

That had never changed over the centuries, especially since the reasons and the hoped-for outcomes of those conflicts only mattered to the people who fought in the wars after they were declared by the governments. When he had first become Arthur's manservant he had followed his 'master' into numerous conflicts which at the time were vital to the survival of Camelot, but also for the growth of Arthur when he was a prince so when he was crowned King he would be an experienced and able fighter.

Merlin could understand the point behind those wars and those conflicts which were mostly done out of a need for revenge against Uther for the elder Pendragon's single-minded need to commit mass genocide over something that wasn't even the fault of many magical people.

When he had discovered his immortality after that mess Morgana had shoved him into after she had discovered his identity as Emrys after he had made the mistake of forever shoving Mordred away forever into the hands of the deranged High Priestess, another soul he had failed because he had been so afraid and he'd listened to the poor advice of Gaius and Kilgharrah, Merlin had found it easier to just sit back and watch conflict occur though he was prepared to step in if things went too far, or if someone discovered a dangerous magical artefact they believed they could use.

But realistically…. the reason why Merlin didn't really get involved was that he knew he was powerless to intervene. And it was so frustrating, especially when there were moments where he could do something; the witch hunts which were the result of a new magical community which had sprung up in order to fill the void left by the old sorcerers who used the Old Religion, and the Salem Witch Hunts had been some of the worst, and while he had managed to get involved to mitigate the worst of the disaster in England while he carried out his long duty to watch over the lake for when Arthur returned, he hadn't learnt about the hunts in Salem until it was too late.

After a while, Merlin had found it simpler, not to mention easier, not to care about conflicts mostly because he felt ordinary people could cope with their own problems given time, though he was prepared to step in to stop them getting out of hand though he was aware his involvement could get even worse.

The Fire of London, the Black Death…. Those two events were simply him being in the wrong place and at the wrong time, and alright the Fire of London had gotten out of hand because he had been trying to stop one of the new wizards, a wand user, who had decided to cause damage to non-magical London for reasons Merlin couldn't work out even to this day, but the point remained there was only so much he could do without things getting out of hand. Most things he could cope with simply because it was in his nature to stop things getting out of hand, but over the years it had been simpler for him not to care.

Wars were no different. Merlin had been alive for centuries, and he had personally witnessed first hand how the conflicts fought by the knights of Camelot, by Uther, by Arthur, against people like Annis, Cenred, and all the others either become forgotten because no trace of the events had been found by archaeologists or records had been dug up from forgotten archives, or they had simply become mythological and warped so the reasons weren't clear.

The wars that had come and gone long after the fall of Camelot when Gwen had died were no different. While at the time their reasons for them being set off made sense, in the long-term they didn't do anything more than fill a history book. Merlin had no doubts this so-called 'great war' (what was great about it, he didn't know, but he guessed it had to do with the sheer scale since the war seemed to cover the entirety of Europe instead of a few conflicts, but he couldn't understand it since the Napoleonic Wars had seen Napoleons' hold over Europe spark off a large conflict, so how could this be called the 'War to end all Wars'?) would be largely seen as something that happened centuries ago, but the gains from the war wouldn't mean anything later.

As he huddled against the 'wall' of the trench, pretending to be cold along with the rest of the other soldiers with him but the blanket he had wrapped around him had a warming spell on it so he wasn't completely cold - he had thought about using the same spells on the other soldiers, but he had quickly decided against it. The soldiers in the trench were tired and many of them were nervy if they saw him use his powers Merlin had no doubt it would get ugly. He hated it here, he wished he was back home, but since many of the wars he had seen over the centuries were quite large in scale, Merlin had gotten the idea into his mind Arthur would rise again, and when that happened he wanted to be there in case his old king appeared on the battlefield.

Merlin's head lolled back until it was almost touching the mud as the rain began to pelt down, but he ignored it - he had been filthy for the last couple of years, and the frequent rainfalls although tedious reminded him of the life that still existed out there. Despite the booms from the German guns and the English guns and the sound of the never-ending rain which pissed everywhere, the trenches were quiet. And then he heard it, the soft sounds of some of the soldiers reciting the poems they were trying to write out here.

Merlin smiled as he listened to some of the poems; he had hung around with many of the greatest minds history had to offer, and he sometimes wondered how Lord Byron or William Shakespeare would have taken the poems these soldiers were coming up with because they had nothing better to do with their time and were trying to fill their time with creativity despite the lack of resources. Knowing William, Merlin was willing to bet the legendary playwright, while disgusted by the conditions within the trench, would have probably gotten along with many of the soldiers, and dear old Charles would have not hesitated to write one of those classic novels of his, furiously lashing out at the idiots who had organised this poor excuse of a war while being as sympathetic to the soldiers as he had always been.

Merlin closed his eyes as he thought about his old friends. He had done his best to live as regular a life as possible while he dealt with his immortality and with the hope Arthur would return soon, doing everything he could to keep up with this world which was increasingly forgetting magic and replacing it with science and technology with each decade - while he didn't really bother with the qualifications he had gathered from his times at university, he did on a few of those occasions use them here and there, and he made friends with some people easily enough - while he took action here and there if he felt he could actually get away with though he usually kept himself to himself.

It hadn't been easy to say goodbye to those friends, and while he often asked himself why he bothered to make them since they would grow old and die while he stayed behind, never seeming to age unless he manipulated his appearance, he always told himself it was because those friendships taught him there was more to life out there even if he just wanted to be left alone.

Merlin himself had written a few poems himself during his time in the trenches when he wasn't being shot at by the Germans - it had truly amazed him when he had first arrived here, listening to the other tommies boast how this war was not going to last long, and he remembered he had wanted to laugh at them for their naivety. He may not want to be out here, not because it was either be here instead of being in England where women were selling white flowers to any man stupid enough to cross their paths and be called cowards for coming here (didn't these idiots remember the Crimean War which was a massive waste of life?), but because he had wondered if this war, which was on a scale he hadn't seen for a while, might be the time Arthur came back.

But while he had his own hopes, Merlin was not stupid. He had seen more than enough war to know they did not just end straight away, and now those same soldiers who believed that poppycock were either dead because of war-related injuries, or simply because they had died of one of the common illnesses which took place in this filthy form of warfare.

Is Arthur ever going to return?

Merlin closed his eyes as the treacherous thought crossed his mind. He'd often had it over the years when it had first entered his mind he had stamped it out furiously, but over the years the thought had become harder and harder to shake off, and he had been getting it frequently. He just didn't understand why Arthur hadn't yet returned from the lake; England had suffered so many adversities since his 'death' after Mordred had run him through with that sword Aithusa had breathed on; wars, plagues, threats of invasion…..And yet Arthur was still not around. It had reached the point where Merlin was almost sure Kilgharrah had lied to him.

No. That was not fair. Although the Great Dragon had been pleased to mislead him when he had been too naive to know any better, manipulating him into setting him free so the dragon could take revenge over Camelot though looking back Merlin could understand the point behind the ancient creature's actions, their relationship had changed for the better after Balinor died (he did not want to go through those memories, those brief memories where he had spent time with his father), and he had become a Dragonlord.

Merlin wished he could summon the dragon to him again, but Kilgharrah had died not long after Arthur had, succumbing at last to old age. Merlin had been heartbroken that day; he had felt as if everyone he had cared about was just dying on him. He had been thankful Gwen and the other surviving knights had been there, but when they had gone he had lost a buffer. Aithusa…. Kilgharrah had told him to find her, but Merlin wasn't sure he wanted to at the time, not since she had betrayed everything he had worked for. But when he had, he had felt as if he had been thrown a lifeline. When she had died….

Merlin clenched his fists when he remembered how lonely he had become around that point, and as he sat in the cold, filthy trench with rain splashing on his ragged uniform, he wondered if he would ever have peace.


End file.
